


Sweet Dreams Are Made of Soda and Red Vines

by TeaTimeAt221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comforting Dean, Embarrassed Sam, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaTimeAt221B/pseuds/TeaTimeAt221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine-year-old Sammy is startled and embarrassed when he comes for the first time. Luckily Dean is there to comfort him and reassure him that everything is okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams Are Made of Soda and Red Vines

**Author's Note:**

> Filled prompt from [spn-kinkmeme](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/75685.html?thread=26895525#t26895525)
> 
> I've aged them down a little bit from the original prompt because I felt it was more realistic for how I interpreted the reaction the OP was looking for. I hope I've done it justice!
> 
> Crossposted to [tumblr](http://sammys-beautiful-bitchface.tumblr.com/post/61228679522/sweet-dreams-are-made-of-soda-and-red-vines) too.

Sammy was dreaming.

In his dream, he and Dean were in the back seat of the Impala. Dad was up front, squinting out the windshield against the bright sun and listening to the same AC/DC tape that had been on repeat for the last six hours. The pavement under the tires was riddled with bumps and potholes, making the whole car shake and vibrate as it rolled down the highway, passing hills and plains washed in the dull yellow-brown of summer. Making Sam shake and vibrate, too. The vibrations passed through the sticky leather seat into his thighs and spread a ticklish tingling sensation through his body. He shifted a bit in his seat, self-conscious and uncomfortable, but it only made the tingling worse, especially those sensitive places between his legs. He ignored it for a while, humming along to the familiar tunes, but it persisted and he started to squirm, shooting a surreptitious glance at Dad’s face in the rearview and Dean to his right, neither of which were watching (to his relief). It felt like his underwear were getting too tight, hot. He reached a hand down to adjust himself and had to bite back a moan at the unexpected wave of pleasure that jolted through him.

Dean heard the soft little sound and leaned over to whisper in Sam’s ear. “You all right there, Sammy?” He breathed, voice low. Sam’s eyes widened and he gasped, that deep voice causing a curl of warmth to spread tight through his belly. “That rough road making you feel all funny, hmm? I bet I can help you with that, baby boy.”

Sam touched himself again, more firmly this time. Slowly he turned his head to look at Dean, whose face was still close, very close from whispering to him. He could feel Dean’s breath on his face, on his lips - soda and red vines, from the last time they stopped for gas. It would taste so sweet. He continued to palm himself through his shorts, his lips aching for something, to touch something…

***

Sam’s eyes flew open to a dark motel room. His harsh breaths rasped loud in his ears and clammy sweat stuck his shirt to his back.  _What a weird dream_. A phantom ache lingered on his lips, in his groin. He rolled over onto his side on the lumpy, scratchy motel bed to try to get comfortable, but he still had that funny feeling between his legs, like in the dream. Hot, tight. Warily, he looked over at Dean. His brother was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed, flat on his back with his face turned away.

Okay. It felt so good in the dream, to touch… He supposed he’d try it.

Oh so carefully he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the boxers he wore to bed. His cock was hot and hard. That happened sometimes, especially in the mornings, but he usually just ignored it until it went away. This time, in this half-dreaming, half-awake sensuous state, he wrapped a curious hand around himself.

His eyes fell shut and lips parted.  _Oh_.

Delicately, he stroked his fingers up and down. Pleasure rushed through him.  _Oh, wow…_   He began stroking in earnest, skin so soft and silken under his fingertips, breathless little whimpers escaping him, heart pounding. At first he kept his grip light and timid, then he began experimenting with gripping tighter, moving faster. His hips shifted forward rhythmically into his hand, and everything was feeling so hot-good-new…

Then his eyes fluttered open again to meet Dean’s looking back at him. Dean’s eyes were low-lidded, pupils huge in the dark. He licked his lips until they were spit-shiny and Sammy’s hips bucked hard, making him whine. “You all right there, Sammy?” Dean whispered, and Sam gasped and jerked at the words right out of his dream, and suddenly his whole body tensed up and he came, just a couple of tiny spurts of  pearlescent liquid running down over his hand.

Sam immediately tore his hand off his cock and scrambled up in the bed, still panting, body trembling with aftershocks, and pressed himself against the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked down at his hand in horror, spread his fingers wide and watched his come drip between them, slippery-thick. “Deeean,” he whined, “What…”

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was low, rough.

He choked back a sob, lip trembling. “I made… I made a mess. I – ”

Dean sat up and scooted closer to him. “Yeah, you sure did. Has that ever happened to you before, little brother?” Dean was breathing heavily, eyes fixated on Sam’s hand, tongue darting out subconsciously to lick at his lips again.

Sam shook his head, eyes wide and wet.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he soothed. “It means you’re growing up, that’s all. Hey,” he reached out and brushed his fingers against Sam’s chin, gently turning his head to look at him again. “Hey, it’s okay, all right, sweetheart? Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

A wave of warmth spread through him at the endearment and his cheeks reddened. “Does it happen to you too, Dean?” He asked shyly.

Dean smiled at Sam’s adorable innocence. He traced Sam’s jawline comfortingly with the very tips of his fingers, coming to rest at the back of his head, nestled in his soft hair. God, his Sammy’s hair felt delicious and silky. He massaged the scalp a little. Sammy gave a tiny sigh and shudder.  “Happens to me all the time, baby boy,” Dean said. “When you’re a little kid, nothing really comes out, but when you start to grow up, and you touch yourself until it feels so good that you get that rush of release, that’s what happens. It feels really nice, doesn’t it? C’mere.” Gently, Dean pulled him closer, Sam wiggling agreeably along until Sam’s back was snugged up against Dean’s chest, where Dean could hold him tight as he gradually calmed down, his tears drying. Dean pressed his cheek against the side of Sam’s head, breathing in the scent of cheap shampoo and warm, clean Sam. “Sammy,” he said, voice tight, “I wanna do something okay? Gonna help you clean up. Gonna take care of you, all right, baby boy? Would you let me do that?”

Sam bit his lip, unsure, and twisted around to look up at Dean. There was a funny look in his eyes, something hot and hungry. But there was also big brother Dean, who loved Sammy more than anything and would always take care of him. Sam slowly let out a breath and nodded. Dean hugged him tight, pressed his face briefly back into Sam’s hair, then stroked his arm, lifted his wrist up. So softly, he brought Sam’s hand up to his lips and kissed the messy palm. It was tacky and slightly warm and smelled like musk and little brother. Sam squirmed. “Dean, that’s gross,” he protested. Dean kissed his hand again and then licked his lips curiously. His eyes drifted closed with a moan. Heat rose to Sam’s cheeks, embarrassed that Dean just put that, that  _stuff_  in his  _mouth_.

“Oh my god, Sammy, you taste so good,” he groaned, and then he was  _licking_ , laving his soft, wet tongue over the cooling come on Sam’s palm, in the dips between his fingers, and up, until he was sucking gently at Sam’s index finger. Sam moaned and felt his cock twitch in sympathy. He wriggled his hips as Dean moved his attention from one finger to the next, running the tip of his tongue up and down and swirling around the end of each finger, then sucking it into his warm mouth. He could feel himself getting hard again and was mortified. He started to tug his hand away. Dean pulled his mouth off Sammy’s hand, now all clean of come but damp with saliva. “What’s wrong, baby? You all right?”

“Dean, it feels funny.” Sam shifted his hips in a silent plea.

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Are you getting hard again, huh, Sam? That’s okay. See?” Dean snuck one hand down between their bodies to pull himself free of the hole in front of his boxers, wrapped one hand around Sam’s small hipbone and canted his hips forward into the swell of his brother’s rump, nestling his hardness in the little dip between his cheeks. “It’s making me hard too. The way you taste, the way you move and make those little noises, god Sam, you’re amazing. So perfect, baby, you don’t even know.”

Sam wriggled in his lap and Dean’s hips jerked in response. “I want… Dean, I  _want_ …” He said, his voice strained with desire and frustration.

“Oh, Sammy.”  _You’re so innocent, so young_. “You don’t know what to do, huh?” Hesitantly, cautiously, Dean rested his hand on Sam’s upper thigh, almost touching where Sam wanted him to; close enough to feel the heat. “Need me to help you with that, baby boy? Want me to show you what to do, how to feel good?” Dean ran his tongue around the inside of his lips, the taste of Sam lingering in his mouth and spurring him on. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this with his baby brother; Dad would kill him if he found out. Dean had learned a few years ago that some things were okay to do with little Sammy, and other things would get him smacked. He was pretty sure rubbing his hard cock against the smooth skin of Sammy’s butt and lower back until he came messy all over him was on the list of things that were Not Allowed.

But damn, he felt  _so good_.

“Tell me you want this, Sammy,” he breathed, lightly skimming his fingers along Sam’s inner thighs. The muscles underneath tensed and twitched in response. “Gotta tell me, baby, if you want me to help you. I want to, god, I want to-” Dean’s voice hitched as he shifted slightly against Sam – “but only if you want me to, Sammy. Only for you, okay?”

Sam whined, head tipped back against Dean’s solid chest. “Yeah, I… I want,  _please_ Dean.” He put his hand over Dean’s, stilling his teasing movements against his thigh. “Can we… could you…” He carefully moved Dean’s hand over his cock, looking up backwards with wide, trusting eyes at his big brother. When he felt the first brush of his hand on hot flesh through the thin layer of his boxers his eyes squeezed shut and his hips bucked up, helplessly seeking more contact. Dean was more than happy to comply, cupping him gently and letting him rock up into his hand, moving just a little, thumb slipping under the fabric to slide over the sensitive tip.

Emboldened by Sammy’s consent, Dean nipped lightly at his earlobe, ran his tongue around the shell of his ear, pulling a high-pitched cry from his little brother. “What do you say we get those off of you, hm? Is that okay?” Sam nodded vigorously and lifted his hips eagerly off the bed for Dean to pull them off, leaving him naked, fully exposed. Before he could feel self-conscious, Dean stroked, fingers splayed wide, from his chest all the way down to his thighs in appreciation. “You’re so beautiful, Sammy, did you know that? Just perfect, so perfect for me.” He pinched a nipple between his fingertips and Sam whined and wriggled his hips again in supplication, the hard jolt of arousal almost too much. Then Dean touched him again, his hand finally wrapping around his hard cock and stroking slowly and gently.

Sam opened his mouth to moan only to suddenly find it stuffed full with two fingers. He sputtered at first, but then relaxed, continuing to rock into Dean’s hand while licking around the fingers, deciding he loved how it felt to have something in his mouth, lightly thrusting in and out in time with his hips. It felt like comforting childhood suckling; felt like liquid heat straight to his groin. Dean had to close his eyes against the sight of little Sammy’s lips stretched over his fingers, the pink dart of his tongue – wet, sloppy, messy, so utterly debauched and wonderful that he was afraid he would come right then. Already he was matching Sam’s rocking with his own, pushing hard into Sam’s lower back, the head of his cock leaving a slippery spot where precome leaked out when it jerked from imagining Sam’s lips spit-slick and stretched dirty-wide around something else. He pulled his fingers out and Sam whined at the loss. “Shh, it’s okay, baby boy.” Dean carefully touched the side of Sammy’s jaw, turning him around a bit and tilting up until finally – finally – he could bend down and press their lips together.

Kissing Sammy. And it was heaven.

It was delicate at first, that brush of lips, warm and pillow-soft. Would almost be chaste if their bodies weren’t pressed tight against each other, like they might fuse into one skin if only they could squeeze close enough. Sam’s lips were wet and puffy from sucking Dean’s fingers, and he moaned as Dean gently parted his lips, pressing harder and coaxing Sam to do the same. Their breathing was ragged and inexpert, little whimpers and sighs escaping as they pulled back from the kiss and dove back in again and again. It was Sam who first darted out his little tongue, swiping experimentally at Dean’s full bottom lip. Dean’s grip on Sam’s cock tightened reflexively in surprise and Sam’s head fell back with a cry of “Dean!”

God, but it was all over for Dean now, hearing his baby brother call his name with that desperate, sex-roughed voice, so hot-wrong from someone so young. Dean curled his fingers into the soft hair at the base of Sam’s neck and kissed him furiously, passionately as his other hand moved faster, Sam’s mouth going wide and slack in submissive pleasure as he stopped even trying to kiss back, just taking everything his brother was offering him, relishing the slick slide of Dean’s tongue on his, the almost painful tension of his hair being tugged, the hot, blinding sensation of Dean’s hand on him. A few more strokes and Sam was coming again, back arching with the tense-release of his muscles. Hardly anything came out this time; he pulsed nearly dry in Dean’s hand, his wails muffled by Dean’s mouth.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered reverently when he let go of his little brother’s oversensitive, softening cock. “So beautiful, baby boy, so amazing. Did that feel good? You like it?”

Sammy slowly opened his eyes to look up at Dean, glazed-over and sleepy, lips reddened and puffy from their kisses and a pink flush to his cheeks and down his chest; totally fucked-out. He smiled lazily and snuggled into his chest. “Yeah Dean, that was really good. I… really liked it. I didn’t know I could feel like that. I’ve never… done anything like that before.” Shyly, he leaned up and gave Dean a little peck on the lips, then squirmed like he was pleased with himself. “I’m so glad you showed me what to do, Dean. You always take care of me.”

Dean was still painfully hard and leaking, and moaned at Sammy’s sweet little kiss and the movement against his cock when he squirmed. “Yeah Sammy. Always take care of you, you know that.” He swallowed hard, heart racing. “Now can you do something for me, sweetheart? Just let me…” Dean lifted Sam up by the hips with both hands and turned him around so they were face to face, scooting down until Sam was lying on top of him. He nestled his cock between Sammy’s thighs, breath hitching at the feeling of baby-soft, smooth skin against him. Sammy murmured incoherently in reply, simply settling down on top of his big brother and spreading his hands on his warm chest. Poor Sammy was all tired out.

That was okay. Dean didn’t need much at this point.

He gripped Sammy’s hips and lightly thrust between his thighs. Sam moaned a little but gave no protest. Dean thrust harder, finally letting himself go and giving himself over to the pleasure of being like this with Sammy, his Sammy, the way his little brother was just pure angelic sweetness. He let one hand skim down over Sam’s ass, while he thrust, dipped down in the crease to find the small puckered opening inside. This time Sam’s brow creased a bit when he moaned, but he was too sleepy to react in any other way. Dean pushed the head of his cock, slick with precome, against the opening and worked himself with his hand, hips moving slightly in reflex,  _god Sammy, so good, fuck, fuck_ , pushing against the hole again and again until he came with a loud cry, all over Sammy’s ass and thighs.

After he shuddered through the last aftershocks and his breathing eventually returned to normal, Dean pulled the blankets up over them, leaving the mess between them to be cleaned up in the morning. Some tangible proof that this really happened, and wasn't just one of Dean's vivid (and alarmingly frequent) dreams. He wrapped his arms securely around his sleeping brother and stroked his hair affectionately. In his sleep, Sam smiled.

Just before Dean drifted off, he found himself looking forward to Sammy waking him up the next night with more dreams. After all, he had so much more to teach him.


End file.
